


Fantasy

by gracefulally



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF, Kris Allen (Musician)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-25
Updated: 2009-07-25
Packaged: 2017-10-21 06:03:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/221737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracefulally/pseuds/gracefulally
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tour fluff. Kris wakes up on the tour bus and goes to find Adam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fantasy

Kris is accustomed to trickling off into sleep within minutes of his face hitting the pillow. He possesses the astonishing ability to sleep through any level of noise that man or nature creates -- thunderstorms, sirens, room-shaking bass, wall-thumping sex, Michael Bay flicks; everything except the chorus of neighing and sawing from his snoring tour-mates. Every single one of them has caught a cold somewhere between Portland and Philly, Kris included. "Frickin' epic" is how Kris describes the level of noise. Tonight, however, it's the sudden slam of sugar-pop beats in his ears that stirs the fluffy-haired man out of his deep sleep.

Several seconds pass before Kris's heavy-lidded gaze focuses in the dark. He struggles to remember how to shut off an iPod and decides they are not "the bomb diggity" like he proclaimed on the night Danny, Anoop, and a bodyguard were snoring in rounds. The cheery, bopping music grates on Kris's sleepy brain and elicits button-mashing on the click wheel with fumbling thumbs. He considers rolling to his side to stuff the iPod between the pillow and wall to join his glasses and phone, but grumbles in defeat when he's compelled to sing along with the catchy tune stuck in his head.

A heavy blanket entangles Kris's lower body and is cause for a spastic fight to free himself, which he miraculously accomplishes without banging his limbs against the walls and ceiling of the coffin-like bunk. There's a whisper of cotton dragging over steel as his curtain opens. Kris shoves a pair of wire-framed glasses onto his face and crawls out of the bottom bunk to crouch on the floor. Headphones are no longer in his ears to shield him from the raucous snoring, dampened road noises, soft jazzy music from another bunk, and Scott's occasional dream-induced chuckling. Kris climbs to his feet and dizzily staggers toward the front of the moving bus. He pauses to yawn and flex his bare toes into the rough gray carpet before pushing past the drapes leading to the next section of the bus.

Kris squints when the ambient light greets him like the midday sun. He lets his feet carry him on autopilot over the faux wood flooring to Adam's preferred bed -- the leather seating that flanks one wall of the bus. Kris is mildly disappointed to find Adam asleep with his long body taking up most the seats. Adam's right arm props a pillow behind his head while the other arm is draped across himself, his fingers grazing the iPod resting on his abdomen. He looks comfortable. The peaceful expression on Adam's face detours Kris from waking him.

Sighing, Kris buries his fidgeting hands into the pouch of his red UA Hogs hoodie and resigns himself to quietly taking a seat on the wide cushions to the right of Adam's head. There's a punch of guilt in his gut when Adam rouses immediately.

Adam blinks as he stares up at Kris. "You're up late," Adam says with more pep in his voice than anyone should rightly posses at four o'clock in the morning. He uses both hands to remove his headphones. His pillow cushions his head's short fall to the seat.

Kris shifts sideways and buries a shoulder into the back of the seats as his skinny legs draw up beneath him. "I think y'mean 'early'," he corrects in a deep, groggy drawl before clearing his throat.

"It's all the same to me," Adam dismissively replies and stretches both of his arms toward the bus's ceiling.

Adam flexes the tension out of his fingers and loosens his neck. His chin tips upward as he arches his body before collapsing on the seats with a sigh. The routine mesmerizes Kris, who bites back the urge to remind Adam that sleeping out here is bad for his back.

"Why are you even awake? Did Todd kick your wall, again?"

"Nah," Kris replies. He smiles, lopsided and slow, when Adam's arms flop backward to collide with his propped thigh. "Mariah woke me up."

"Mmhmm," Adam muses as he lets his left arm tumble off of Kris to rest on the bus floor. "I doubt Matt will approve of that nickname."

Kris simultaneously winces and snorts before he starts to giggle. His small frame pitches forward and folds like he might fall, but he stops short of dropping himself onto his smirking friend.

"No, no, no," Kris manages between titters and gives an emphatic wag of his head. Sitting back on his haunches, Kris fishes the iPod out of his hoodie pouch and gives the middle button a jab with his thumb. "This Mariah."

Adam squints at the illuminated screen that Kris hovers over his face. An "Oh" of realization leaves Adam before raises up to sit, legs swinging off the seats. "'Fantasy'? I love that song," he whispers as Kris hands off the iPod.

"I love this whole album." Adam's face brightens with nostalgia as he intently stares at the little screen and clicks the thumb wheel. He sits forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. "I have so many memories of this," Adam says. His brow creases. "My mom had the vinyl and I still have the CD somewhere, I know it."

Kris gently presses a fist to his mouth to hold back another giggle. He grins against his knuckles. "You wanna listen to it?" he asks with a suggestive upturn in his voice.

Adam shoots a suspicious glance back over his shoulder. "Do you recall the last time we traded iPods?"

Kris flinches and scratches at his mussed hair. "Man, it wasn't that bad--" he mumbles, but Adam cuts him off with a head tilt and pointed look of disbelief.

"I think we're remembering things differently."

Kris yields with a groan and slides downward until his body slumps onto the seats. His glasses are knocked askew when he drops his head onto Adam's pillow. "Whatever. I wasn't talking about trading iPods anyway."

Adam raises an expectant brow at Kris; the sneaky smile on the younger man's face broadens. Kris's fingers delve into a pocket of his rumpled jeans in search of a small piece of plastic. Brow fretting, he licks his lips as he fights to untwist the pocket held tight against his thigh and gropes his own leg in the process. He wonders if this is why women carry purses, but doesn't voice the thought.

A lazy smugness crosses over Kris's face when he proffers the headphone splitter.

"You know I always come prepared, baby." Kris draws out the last 'ay' and gets a laugh out of Adam, who is shaking his head.

"That was really lame."

"I've said lamer things, home skillet," Kris deadpans and lets his outstretched hand fall to the seat. "Quit boggartin' my iPod."

Adam sits back and gives Kris a disparaging look. Kris twists his head for a peep at Adam's expression and presses his lips together -- tightening until his entire face scrunches -- to hold in his amusement. The staring contest ends abruptly when Kris's shoulders start to shudder as he snickers which makes Adam laugh which makes Kris bury his face in the pillow to muffle his giggles.

Fingers delicately snake the headphone splitter from Kris's hand without protest. Kris rolls from his side to his stomach and props his chest on his forearms. He absently flops his feet against the seats as he observes Adam quickly swap-in the headphone splitter.

In an effort to fix his crooked glasses, Kris repeatedly tips up his chin to shake his head and wrinkle his nose. "What? You wanna do it? I'm too lazy to use my hands," Kris huffs when he notices Adam shyly smiling at him.

It's Adam's turn to wince and laugh. Kris stares in wide-eyed confusion for all of two seconds before the double entrendre hits his sleepy mind. "Whatever," he grumbles before yawning.

"You are too precious for words," Adam says after catching his breath.

A smile pulls at Kris's lips and his eyes roll upward. "Yeah, yeah. Like a puppy--"

"--with big brown eyes--"

"--and a wagging tail or something?"

"Yeah. It's ridiculous."

"You're ridiculous."

"Only on days that end in 'y'."

"...So's your face."

"Quoting 'Scrubs' at me, again, Ginger?"

Kris lets out an exasperated sigh. "Just give me the dang headphones."

"Yes, ma'am," Adam says with satisfied smirk. He lobs over a set of earbuds and laughs when they bounce off Kris's stubble-free cheek.

"Whatever," Kris mutters once more.

The younger man shifts to free up an arm and hand to insert a white headphone bud into each of his ears. His feet press into the seats and give the soft leather a shove, which slides him several inches closer to Adam. Kris stops edging over when he's able to loll his face into the pillow he's propped against Adam's thigh. He smirks in victory when Adam's breath hitches.

"Tease," Adam hisses down at his lap. He shifts to put more distance between his knees. Kris chuckles and shoots a grin up at Adam. It's too dark in the bus for visual confirmation, but Kris discerns Adam's expressions well enough to know that there is color rising into the freckled face behind the nervous smile. It's a boost to Kris's confidence and his indifference has a relaxing affect on Adam.

"Love ya, man," Kris drawls before snuggling closer to Adam. Fingers feather through his short hair and never leave.

The opening whimsical bars of Mariah Carey's 'Fantasy' soon pour into Kris's ears. Kris occasionally croons or hums along softly in his low register. He never checks to see if Adam is singing, too -- which would require one or both of them to move. Kris's laziness has mingled with his exhaustion and utter contentment. He doesn't want to move until he has to.

Kris lasts through the second chorus of 'One Sweet Day' before he drifts off into sleep, snoring on Adam's leg.


End file.
